Chapter 373: Learning Occlumency
"How exactly does one resist it?" Sean asked, his curiosity piqued.
Of course, he hadn't forgotten that magic like Legilimency could be interrupted or even reflected. Harry, for instance, had used a Shield Charm to bounce Professor Snape's intrusion right back at him.
Legilimency, Memory Charms, Confusion Charms... even the Imperius Curse—each had its own specific counter-measure. During the casting process, the caster was always vulnerable to a direct offensive spell. It was a logical weakness; the wizard casting the spell possessed immense magical power but remained physically fragile.
"Since you have agreed... Mr. Green, please understand the process," Quirrell began tentatively. "I shall perform a very weak Legilimency probe. My intent will be to see what you had to eat today. In doing so, you will begin to recognize the sensation of an intrusion. Finding that sensation is the first step toward mastering Occlumency."
Sean understood the principle. Magic required a certain level of conceptualization—a mental bridge to make the impossible possible. To manifest rain, one first had to visualize a cloud; to sever a space, it helped to imagine a physical boundary like a fence.
"Very well, Professor," Sean agreed immediately.
"Yes... quite. If you feel any significant discomfort, I shall terminate the link at once," Quirrell said. He stood rigidly before the hearth, his fingers gripping his wand so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Shall we begin?" Sean looked up, fixing his gaze directly on Professor Quirrell's eyes.
Direct eye contact was the essential anchor for Legilimency. Most spells required the wizard to clearly identify and focus on their target to be effective. A clear example was the incident in Sean's first year when Harry's broom had been cursed; both Snape and Quirrell had been forced to maintain an unblinking stare to exert their influence over the broom.
"As you wish," Quirrell whispered. He forced himself not to look away, raising his wand and offering a small nod. "Legilimens!"
At that moment, Sean felt a sensation in his mind like the light prickle of a bee sting. However, the feeling was quickly pushed out. One second... three seconds... ten seconds passed.
"Did you see anything?" Sean asked, fighting to keep his emotions flat and stagnant.
"Ah... you are very quick to react, Mr. Green." Quirrell went silent for a moment, his gaze growing even more respectful.
Then, Sean felt the "bee sting" return. This time, the needle was much sharper, probing for a weakness in the defensive wall Sean had built by emptying his mind of current memories.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
[Alert: You have practiced Occlumency at an Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[Occlumency: Unlocked (10/30)]
After what felt like two or three minutes, Sean's mental guard finally popped like a soap bubble. Quirrell was suddenly flooded with a series of images: lamb chops, pumpkin porridge, treacle fudge, more pumpkin juice, the Ilvermorny feast...
The corner of Quirrell's mouth twitched into a small smile. He quickly lowered his head, focusing on the mug of pumpkin juice on the table rather than meeting Sean's emerald-green eyes again.
It was an odd irony: of the two wizards he had sworn his loyalty to, he dared not look either in the eye. Fortunately, it was for entirely different reasons.
Sean saw the same images—the scenes of his meals at Ilvermorny flashing through his mind. He had grasped the feeling now. The theory was simple: do not dwell on memories and allow no emotional ripples to reach the surface. But the execution was grueling. A wizard's mind was naturally restless; thoughts and feelings were like birds, constantly fluttering and impossible to keep perfectly still for long.
"I slipped, Professor," Sean said, looking slightly frustrated. He felt he should have lasted longer. If he hadn't focused on the pumpkin juice on the table, creating a hole in his mental defenses, he might have held out for another minute.
"You... you call that slipping?" Quirrell murmured to himself. He found the boy's talent terrifying, even if it had only just met Sean's own personal "passing grade."
"Professor, I have a question. A wizard's resistance is inherently a tiring and limited thing. If someone is subjected to a constant Legilimency probe, won't they eventually be read regardless? Or is it different for a master of Occlumency?" Sean asked.
"Legilimency is an incredibly difficult branch of magic. Few learn it, and fewer still reach the level of a Master," Quirrell explained seriously. "An Occlumens can manifest resistance instantly. Just as some wizards are naturally attuned to specific charms, a trained Occlumens is hyper-aware of being 'watched' and can react within a heartbeat.
"As for whether they are always read... well, honored Mr. Green, a wizard's defense isn't limited to a counter-spell. Sometimes, the best way to break a magical intrusion is to simply attack the caster."
"I understand," Sean nodded. Magical power was subjective. A master Occlumens could hold their own against a Legilimency Master. In the end, it came down to a battle of magical will and experience. If a wizard lacked the ability to fight back—either mentally or with a physical spell—then there was little difference between being probed with magic or being fed Veritaserum.
"Occlumency can shield you from external magical influences," Quirrell added, his voice lowering. "Now that you have found the feeling of the shield, perhaps you should try to look backward. Forgotten things are often just hidden in the deeper recesses of the mind."
A new light entered Sean's eyes. He looked out the window. The glittering shop windows of Diagon Alley were frosted with ice, and the street was filled with wizards wrapped in heavy scarves. He thought back to his memories of Hogwarts. He had never encountered a mystery quite like the one currently haunting him.
The snow began to fall more heavily, a dull, thumping sound against the roof. If a man sat by a fire and stared into the white world outside, the things he couldn't quite name or remember would eventually sink to the bottom of his heart, growing clearer with the silence.
Images began to construct themselves in Sean's mind: being rescued from the orphanage by Professor McGonagall, boarding the Hogwarts Express, meeting Justin and Hermione, arriving at the castle...
Even the system pings of "+10 proficiency" couldn't break his concentration. The buried things were surfacing.
He finally focused on a specific night in his first year. The three of them had just started their journey at Hogwarts. They had stumbled upon a hidden chamber. On the wall of that room hung a portrait—the canvas was yellowed and cracked with age. It didn't depict a stern wizard or a famous witch, but a snowy owl wearing a velvet waistcoat and a tiny set of pince-nez.
The owl in the painting had been using one claw to adjust his glasses while the other clutched a roll of ancient parchment.
And his eyes... they had been fixed steadily on the three of them.
[End of Chapter 373]
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